Bestselling author Alex Kotlowitz is one of this country's foremost writers on the ever explosive issue of race. In this gripping and ultimately profound book, Kotlowitz takes us to two towns in southern Michigan, St. Joseph and Benton Harbor, separated by the St. Joseph River. Geographically close, but worlds apart, they are a living metaphor for America's racial divisions: St. Joseph is a prosperous lakeshore community and ninety-five percent white, while Benton Harbor is impoverished and ninety-two percent black. When the body of a black teenaged boy from Benton Harbor is found in the river, unhealed wounds and suspicions between the two towns' populations surface as well. The investigation into the young man's death becomes, inevitably, a screen on which each town projects their resentments and fears. The Other Side of the River sensitively portrays the lives and hopes of the towns' citizens as they wrestle with this mystery—and reveals the attitudes and misperceptions that undermine race relations throughout America.
Bestselling author Alex Kotlowitz is one of this country's foremost writers on the ever explosive issue of race. In this gripping and ultimately profound book, Kotlowitz takes us to two towns in southern Michigan, St. Joseph and Benton Harbor, separated by the St. Joseph River. Geographically close, but worlds apart, they are a living metaphor for America's racial divisions: St. Joseph is a prosperous lakeshore community and ninety-five percent white, while Benton Harbor is impoverished and ninety-two percent black. When the body of a black teenaged boy from Benton Harbor is found in the river, unhealed wounds and suspicions between the two towns' populations surface as well. The investigation into the young man's death becomes, inevitably, a screen on which each town projects their resentments and fears. The Other Side of the River sensitively portrays the lives and hopes of the towns' citizens as they wrestle with this mystery—and reveals the attitudes and misperceptions that undermine race relations throughout America.
The Other Side of the River: A Story of Two Towns, a Death, and America's Dilemma
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The Other Side of the River: A Story of Two Towns, a Death, and America's Dilemma
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Overview
Bestselling author Alex Kotlowitz is one of this country's foremost writers on the ever explosive issue of race. In this gripping and ultimately profound book, Kotlowitz takes us to two towns in southern Michigan, St. Joseph and Benton Harbor, separated by the St. Joseph River. Geographically close, but worlds apart, they are a living metaphor for America's racial divisions: St. Joseph is a prosperous lakeshore community and ninety-five percent white, while Benton Harbor is impoverished and ninety-two percent black. When the body of a black teenaged boy from Benton Harbor is found in the river, unhealed wounds and suspicions between the two towns' populations surface as well. The investigation into the young man's death becomes, inevitably, a screen on which each town projects their resentments and fears. The Other Side of the River sensitively portrays the lives and hopes of the towns' citizens as they wrestle with this mystery—and reveals the attitudes and misperceptions that undermine race relations throughout America.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780385477215 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group |
| Publication date: | 01/28/1999 |
| Pages: | 336 |
| Sales rank: | 152,932 |
| Product dimensions: | 5.20(w) x 8.00(h) x 0.70(d) |
About the Author
ALEX KOTLOWITZ is perhaps best known for his national bestseller, There Are No Children Here: The Story of Two Boys Growing Up in the Other America, which the New York Public Library selected as one of the 150 most important books of the twentieth century. Alex’s nonfiction stories, which one critic wrote “inform the heart”, have appeared in print, radio and film. A former staff writer at The Wall Street Journal, Alex has long been a regular contributor to The New York Times Magazine and public radio’s This American Life. His stories, which one reviewer wrote “inform the heart”, have also appeared in The New Yorker, Granta, Rolling Stone, The Chicago Tribune, Slate and The Washington Post, as well as on PBS (Frontline, the MacNeil-Lehrer NewsHour and Media Matters) and on NPR’s All Things Considered and Morning Edition. He’s been honored with some of journalism’s major prizes: a George Foster Peabody Award, the Robert F. Kennedy Journalism Award, the George Polk Award and twice a Columbia duPont Award.
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER ONE
THE BODY
This much is not in dispute.
On Wednesday, May 22, 1991, at the day's first light, a flock of seagulls noisily abandoned their perches along the two cement piers jutting into Lake Michigan. Like rambunctious schoolchildren, they playfully circled above the mouth of the St. Joseph River here in southwestern Michigan, absorbing the warmth of the new day's sun. The seas were calm; the sky, partly cloudy.
Almost exactly one hour later, first-year Coast Guard seaman Saul Brignoni, hosing down a concrete walkway alongside the river, teasingly shot a blast of water at a covy of gulls resting on the embankment and spotted what appeared to be a muddy strip of driftwood floating twenty yards from where he stood. Minutes later, he received a cryptic radio call from the crew of a nearby dredging boat. "We got something out here you might want to take a look at."
Brignoni and two colleagues pushed off in their twenty-two-foot Boston Whaler and on closer inspection discovered that the flotsam was the bloated body of a fully clothed teenage black boy. Using a seven-foot-long boat hook, they carefully prodded the discolored corpse onto a large metal litter, turning their heads to avoid the putrid gases that rose from the body, along with the early morning mist from the river.
They then motored back to shore, where they laid the body, face down, on the wooden deck by their barracks and doused it with a nearby hose, cleansing it of some of the river silt. Three St. Joseph police officers soon arrived. While two asked questions of the Coast Guardsmen, making certain to stay upwind of the body, the third officer circled the corpse like a buzzard over its prey, snapping pictures with a 35-millimeter camera. After getting shots of the boy's short-sleeved shirt, a blue-striped baseball jersey that read MCGINNIS, Detective Dennis Soucek had his fellow officers carefully turn the body over. He knelt to get close-ups, focusing on the dead boy's stonewashed USED jeans, a popular brand, which were unbuckled and unzipped, exposing blue-striped bikini shorts. He snapped shots of the victim's upper body, the arms and hands still caked with mud; the skin, yellowish, almost green in places, was scraped away on the left forearm. He took photos of the boy's head, which was so swollen that the face looked separated from the skull, as if someone had stuffed cotton in the cheeks, the chin, the forehead, and every other part of the head. Only the ears retained their normal size, and in proportion to the other features seemed small and insignificant. The red lips puckered out like a fish's, and there were marks around the neck, two bloody lines that looked like rope burns. There were other matters the camera caught as well: a silver ring with a turquoise stone, a pinky fingernail painted pink, and unlaced high-top Nikes.
Nearby, Jim Dalgleish, a weedy-looking reporter for the Herald-Palladium, the local newspaper, turned his eyes from the scene, his worn Nikon hanging around his neck. Dalgleish, who, like other reporters at the small paper, doubled as a photographer, had heard over the police radio about "a floater" in the river and had sped over in his pickup. Drownings are common occurrences around here, sometimes as many as three to four in a year. The area, after all, is surrounded by water. The St. Joseph River slices through the county, its languid surface hiding a sometimes tricky current. The narrower and shallower Paw Paw River feeds into the St. Joseph just upstream from the Coast Guard station; its mucky bottom once devoured a car that had swerved off the road, trapping the driver. And just two hundred yards downstream from the Coast Guard station, the St. Joseph empties into Lake Michigan, which at times can rise up in a fury, whipping eight-to-ten-foot swells onto the two piers. The force of those waves has swept fishermen and foolhardy teens into roiling water where even the strongest of swimmers have a difficult time staying afloat. Dalgliesh, who hadn't the stomach to look at the puffed-up bodies of floaters, only glanced at this particular corpse; he did snap some photos after it was placed on an ambulance stretcher, a white sheet covering it from head to toe.
The body was taken to Mercy Hospital for an autopsy. The incident was, the police believed, probably a drowning.
Like a swollen snake, the St. Joseph River lazily winds its way north from Indiana through the hilly cropland of southwestern Michigan, eventually spilling into the clear waters of Lake Michigan, where it is 450 feet across at its widest. It is here, near its mouth, that this otherwise undramatic chute of water becomes a formidable waterway, not because of its currents but because of what it separates: Benton Harbor and St. Joseph, two small Michigan towns whose only connections are two bridges and a powerful undertow of contrasts.
South of the river on a hill sits St. Joseph, a modest town of nine thousand that resembles the quaint tourist haunts of the New England coast. Vacationers on their way from Chicago--it's a two-hour drive--to the northern woods of Michigan stop here to browse the downtown mall, shopping at the antique stores, art galleries, and clothing boutiques. Its beach, just a short walk down a steep bluff from the downtown, once boasted an amusement park, but, reflecting today's more environmentally conscious world, now stands bare, its acres of fine sand and protected dunes luring families and idle teens during the summer months. The town is made up of both blue-collar families and professionals, many of whom work at the international corporate headquarters of Whirlpool, one of the area's major employers. In recent years they have been joined by affluent Chicagoans looking for second homes. For those in Benton Harbor, though, St. Joseph's most defining characteristic is its racial makeup: it is 95 percent white.
Benton Harbor lies just across the river. It is a larger town, with a population of twelve thousand, and although, technically speaking, it is the other sibling in the much-used name the Twin Cities, it couldn't be more different from St. Joseph. Benton Harbor is 92 percent black and is dirt poor. It is, as a result, shunned by the citizens of St. Joseph, whose children are taught from an early age that they're not to venture into Benton Harbor because of the gangs and the drugs. A state legislator once publicly warned visitors to lock their doors when driving through the city's downtown, whose empty movie theaters, potholed streets, and vacant stores stand as an inverted image of the mall across the way. And it is suggested from time to time that the local airport, just north of Benton Harbor, should be relocated so that visitors wouldn't have to drive through the wreckage of the town to get to St. Joseph. For the people of St. Joseph, Benton Harbor is an embarrassment. It's as if someone had taken an inner-city neighborhood--indeed, the typical family income is one fourth that in St. Joseph--and plopped it in the middle of this otherwise picturesque landscape. A further reminder of the relentless differences was put forward in 1989, when Money magazine anointed the Benton Harbor metropolitan area, which includes St. Joseph, the worst place to live in the nation. Everyone, of course, blamed Benton Harbor for the rating.
It is here, where the St. Joseph River opens into Lake Michigan, providing sustenance for spawning salmon and seasoned sailors, that this story begins. And it's here--at the beginning--where people began to disagree.
Table of Contents
| 1. | The Body | 1 |
| 2. | A Prelude | 7 |
| 3. | The Cop | 13 |
| 4. | Family | 25 |
| 5. | And Friends | 39 |
| The Shooting: A Tale in Four Parts | ||
| 6. | The Shooter | 45 |
| 7. | The Preacher | 55 |
| 8. | The Prosecutor | 65 |
| 9. | The Dentist | 73 |
| 10. | A Break in the Case | 81 |
| 11. | The Elk | 91 |
| 12. | The Girlfriend | 97 |
| 13. | The Other Girlfriend | 105 |
| 14. | Another View | 115 |
| 15. | Suspicions | 121 |
| 16. | The Aspiring Sheriff | 133 |
| 17. | Off the Record | 141 |
| The Race Card: A Tale in Three Parts | ||
| 18. | The Separatist | 149 |
| 19. | The Powers That Be | 157 |
| 20. | Fissures | 169 |
| 21. | A Connection | 179 |
| 22. | The Gangsta' | 191 |
| 23. | The Firecrackers, a Girl Named Teresa, and Other Assorted Matters | 207 |
| 24. | A Theory | 215 |
| 25. | The River | 225 |
| 26. | The Body | 235 |
| 27. | Another Theory | 247 |
| 28. | The Hanging: A Tale in One Part | 255 |
| 29. | Family | 273 |
| 30. | The Cop | 279 |
| 31. | Ripples--and Whitecaps | 285 |
| 32. | A Final Note | 301 |
| On the Reporting | 309 | |
| The Cast | 311 | |
| Afterword | 313 | |
| Acknowledgments | 319 |
Interviews
On Saturday, February 21, barnesandnoble.com welcomed Alex Kotlowitz, author of THE OTHER SIDE OF THE RIVER.
Moderator from barnesandnoble.com: Thank you so much for joining us tonight, Mr. Kotlowitz. It is truly a pleasure to have you online. Congratulations on the new book!
Alex Kotlowitz: Well, thanks for having me!
Greg from San Antonio, TX: Did you enter Eric's case thinking you would be able to solve it? Were you always a reporter, or did you at times believe you were a detective?
Alex Kotlowitz: Well, let me answer the second question first... As a journalist, we're a little bit of everything anthropologists, sociologists, and at times amateur sleuths, so I don't know that I felt I had gone beyond my role as a reporter, though there were times, as there have been in the past, that I sometimes wondered if I shouldn't have become a cop. And in answer to the first question, there were moments when I did think I would solve the case, and in which I thought I was awfully close to being able to prove one way or the other what had happened to Eric, which in one way was very exciting as a reporter, but I can tell you, as a storyteller, the whole thing made me very nervous, and here's whyI knew that if I at some point solved the mystery behind Eric's death, that I would vindicate one community or the other, and that if I were not careful, it might become a very different story from what I had intended. On the other hand, I knew that if I did not solve the case, that I had the challenge of writing this story, in fact a mystery which had no clear resolution, though in the end, my feeling is that the strength and power of the story is in that ambiguity, because race today is all about ambiguity.
Marion from Clearwater, FL: Did the incidents described in your book receive national attention before your book came out? How did you find out about them?
Alex Kotlowitz: The answer is that the incident did receive national attention, but only because I had done a story on Eric's death for The Wall Street Journal when I was on staff there. Other than that there was no national press on his death. And I found out about Eric's death because in 1992, when I was writing for the Journal covering race and poverty for the paper, the riots in Los Angeles broke out after the Rodney King verdict, and I feared my editors would send me to Los Angeles. I didn't want to go. I don't like being in the center of the storm. In fact, what I love most about what I do is that I can venture into corners of this country in which people have little or no voice. Also, I don't fare particularly well under deadline, so having been familiar with Benton Harbor and St. Joseph and struck by the stark contrast between the two towns, I headed there looking for a story, and while in the library, going through newspaper clips, I was told about Eric's mysterious death.
Bethany from Rockland, NY: Your book is interesting to read, because the events are unresolved, and you were forced to present what took place in the town, and how people reacted, and what their opinions were, rather than describe a crime and place blame. But was there ever a point when you thought you would not be able to write a book because you didn't know the whole story?
Alex Kotlowitz: The answer is no, but I also knew that I faced a real challenge in trying to craft a story that did not have a clear resolution. And one of the books that I read, in fact, for some guidance was Tim O'Brien's novel IN THE LAKE OF THE WOODS, in which he very deftly crafts a story with three possible endings.
Elise from barnesandnoble.com: Earlier this week we hosted a chat with the authors of A SHINING THREAD OF HOPE THE HISTORY OF BLACK WOMEN IN AMERICA. Coauthor Darlene Clark Hine was asked what she thought about the book, and she said that, as a Michigan resident, she was aware of the incidents described in the book. She said that the thing that struck her was "the differing perspectives between the two communities on the prevalence of racism within those communities" -- particularly that the residents of St. Joseph didn't think racism was a problem, whereas the residents of Benton Harbor believed it to be a very big problem. Could you talk more in depth about this? Does this coincide with what you learned while researching the book?
Alex Kotlowitz: Very much so. I mean, for those residents of Benton Harbor, as is the case for most of those in black America, they confront race on a daily basis. They think about it all the time, and there is in fact an ongoing vigorous debate on these issues, that is issues of race within the black community. While in St. Joseph, as is the case for most of white America, race does not impose on their daily routines, it does not pose any sense of urgency, and so not only do they not think about race on a regular, consistent basis, but they don't talk about it, let alone debate it. In fact, when I was reporting in St. Joseph, I had some people say to me, "Why are you trying to make such an issue of this?", or "Why are you writing such a negative book?" And again, I think such questions come from people who don't have to face the daily slights and injustices that those in black America must face.
Ginger from Durham, NC: Hi, Mr. Kotlowitz. Have you learned anything new about the situations described in your book since you finished it? Do you still return to St. Joseph and Benton Harbor?
Alex Kotlowitz: Let me be real honest -- when I finished the book, I wasn't certain how welcome I would be back in that county, but I have been surprised and heartened by the response to the book. Not surprisingly, those in Benton Harbor, the black community, have embraced the book. For them, I think I became a kind of vehicle to tell their stories. But, interestingly enough, and on an encouraging note, the book has been embraced by a large segment of the St. Joseph community as well. In fact, just a couple of weeks ago, I was invited to speak at a luncheon sponsored by the St. Joseph Rotary. Nearly 600 people attended, and what's more, the head of the two towns' Rotaries have formed a joint commission to talk about cultural diversity. There is a real conversation beginning in these two towns, which for me only supports what I found in my time in and out of these communities, and that is that most people, I believe, want to do right by each other but often don't know where to begin.
Robin Freeman from Santa Clara, CA: Dear Mr. Kotlowitz, I read your first book, THERE ARE NO CHILDREN HERE, last week, and I am currently reading THE OTHER SIDE OF THE RIVER. I so enjoy your writing. You write about racial issues without that "I'm so liberal but so apart from you" kind of voice. That's the closest I can come towhat I feel about your writing. I am obviously not a writer! My question is about your time spent with Pharoah and Lafayette's family in the projects. How were you received by the other inhabitants? Did it take long to build trust? Were you ever trusted by those outside of the children's family? Also, how are the kids and their mother doing? Finally, what authors do you read? Thank you so much for your time.
Alex Kotlowitz: Let me answer the second question first, since that's what I get asked the most. I'm going to be a bit circumspect about Lafayette and Pharoah, only because I don't know that it's my place, at this point, to publicly talk about their lives and furthermore, I feel some sanctity about my friendship with them. But I can tell you what's generally known, which is that the family moved out of public housing shortly after the book came out, and Pharoah graduated from high school last June and has been accepted at a college for next September. In answer to your first question, as a journalist, just by the nature of the job, I am an outsider, and I was certainly an outsider in the Henry Horner Homes, where Lafayette and Pharoah lived, but many people, beyond the family, from residents to police, not only accepted me into that community but also trusted me with their stories. Though, of course, as is always the case, there were some who declined to be involved and whose wariness remained through the entire time I was there. But I am very respectful of people's sense of privacy and so ultimately, though it doesn't mean I am not persistent, will take no for an answer. As to the last question, I read a lot of nonfiction as well as fiction. Some of the contemporary nonfiction writers I admire include Melissa Faye Greene, Sam Friedman, Tracy Kidder, and more recently, Jon Krakauer. In terms of literature, I read some contemporary fiction, but read a lot written earlier this century and last century, from Steinbeck and Faulkner to G<ü>nther Grass and many of the Russian novelists of the late 19th century.
Chris from Craig, CO: What is your motive for writing about an untimely death of a boy -- are you simply bearing witness, or do you have a more complex impact in mind?
Alex Kotlowitz: My intent with the book was to find a way to write about race in a manner that would engage readers. Everybody comes to the issue of race with such strong predispositions, such strong preconceptions, and such strong emotions, and I knew that I needed a compelling story that would not only engage readers but would also poke and prod them to think about themselves and those on the other side of the river just a little bit differently.
Peter from Sag Harbor, NY: What sort of legal processes did you have to go through to get permission to access the police records? It seems as though Jim Reeves was willing to help by letting you access the files of evidence from Eric's case.
Alex Kotlowitz: I had to file a Freedom of Information Act request, which sometimes is only a matter of formality, as it was here, or other times, it can be considerably more contentious.
Nicole from Ft. Lauderdale, FL: I know that before you wrote THERE ARE NO CHILDREN HERE, you reported for The Wall Street Journal. What is your background? Did you ever envision that you would be doing what you are today?
Alex Kotlowitz: Let me tell you a little bit about myself. I grew up in Manhattan in a neighborhood that was diverse not only by race but also by class, and only in hindsight do I now realize not only how fortunate I was but also how unusual an experience I had, and so I know those years certainly helped shape my view of the world. Also, when I was 19, I dropped out of college for a year and spent a year working at a settlement house on the south side of Atlanta, in a neighborhood which at the time was the second-poorest census tract in the country. It was my first intimate exposure to that kind of deep urban poverty, and it was an experience which forever informed me. I didn't realize that I wanted to become a journalist or writer until after college, and then my first job was at a small alternative weekly in Lansing, Michigan, and while I did not particularly get along with the people who ran it, I did learn in the eight months I was there that this is what I wanted to do. After that I freelanced for five years for various magazines, for National Public Radio, and for the MacNeil/Lehrer Newshour. I desperately wanted tto work for a newspaper, and after being rejected by about 20 places, I was able to convince, of all places, The Wall Street Journal to hire me. While at the Journal, I was able to carve out a niche at the paper writing about race and poverty, and I was able to do so with the full support of the papers' editors.
Megan from Charlotte, NC: To what extent are you an outsider as a journalist? Yes, you observe, but don't you, as a storyteller, have some power to chronicle a life and maybe teach your audience something? Thanks for taking my question!
Alex Kotlowitz: Absolutely. My hope is that my writing will not only provide an aperture onto parts of our country that we otherwise might not venture, but also ultimately to inform people's view of the world. And while I am always an outsider, it doesn't mean that, in the end, I don't build very real and sometimes intimate connetions with the people I write about.
Jenni from Charleston, SC: Can you recommend other books on contemporary race issues in America?
Alex Kotlowitz: Sure, I would highly recommend a book by Melissa Faye Greene, called PRAYING FOR SHEETROCK, and Sam Friedman's UPON THIS ROCK. Both are works of narrative nonfiction. I also find the writing of Henry Louis Gates extraordinarily provocative, and of course there are writers like Toni Morrison, who won't let us forget our histories.
Jim from Boise, ID: Parts of this read like a novel, parts of this like commentary, parts read like I'm looking at your diary... How would you classify this book? Thank you.
Alex Kotlowitz: Well, I guess I classify it as a work of narrative nonfiction, and by that I mean that it's the work of a journalist, which means that it's all true. However, borrowing, if you will, the tools of a novelist, specifically in the crafting of story.
Polly from Pittsburgh, PA: We usually refer to the term "racism" as a majority's prejudice against a minority, for example, white racists discriminating against blacks. Then, when things are switched around, people typically call it "reverse racism." But isn't racism a two-way street?
Alex Kotlowitz: Certainly, but I will tell you that it is a word that I am very careful about using. In fact, I think I was successful in writing a book about race without using the word "racist" or "racism," and the reason for that is that I sometimes think we use it too freely and too loosely, and so when we really need it, when there's a moment, and there are moments, of racial hatred, we're left with words or language that have lost some their potency.
Bernie from Ann Arbor, MI: What do you think the most prevalent misconception about race relations in America is?
Alex Kotlowitz: I think the most prevalent misperception about race relations is that we no longer have a problem, or the feeling or the belief that race is not a determining factor in the lives of African Americans.
Rita from Glen Cove, NY: There is a great line in the beginning of your book, about how you have heard all the theories, "or so I think until I pick up one more stone, which reveals a patch of earth muddier than the last," so your story has no finite resolution. That's also a great metaphor for the general state of race relations in the U.S. Do you agree? I'd love to hear your comments!
Alex Kotlowitz: Absolutely, though some reviewers might take issue with that, but I think you are right, that the lack of resolution, or the ambiguity, if you will, in the story I tell, so mirrors the state of race relations today.
Pierre from South Florida: I apologize that this is long, but I couldn't help but be struck by the confrontations described in your book... But what struck me is how easily people take the types of attitudes held by the residents of St. Joe and Benton Harbor for granted. Not everyone wants to admit their prejudices, but in situations where there is a dramatic difference between social and economic status, attitudes emerge when people come into conflict -- and sometimes even just contact -- with one another. I grew up in a neighborhood in Florida where, although there wasn't any visible tension between blacks and whites, white people called the police if they saw a black person walking down the street if he wasn't obviously doing soemone's yard work. It unnerves and embarrasses me even to describe it, because I like to think things are better off than this. The economic divide between neighborhoods marked a racial divide as well -- that since I can remember, hasn't changed much over time, because even as the nature of towns evolve, the old attitudes are still stuck there. Do you see this improving anywhere? Is there any hope?
Alex Kotlowitz: Certainly there's hope. Without hope, I couldn't do what I do. And without meaning to sound too redundant, I have found hope in that most of the people I met in these two towns, I think want to do right by each other but don't know where to begin. One reviewer, I think aptly, called this the moral middle ground, and so it seems to me we've got to find a way to begin that conversation, to find those connections.
Ally from Tulsa, OK: You said that your book was almost entirely based on interviews. Did you tape these? Will there be a documentary filmed?
Alex Kotlowitz: The answer is no. I very rarely even use a tape recorder, let alone a video camera, and I did what I love to do, and I think do best, which is to write!
Moderator from barnesandnoble.com: Thanks so much for joining us, Mr. Kotlowitz! We hope you'll join us for you next book. How would you sum up your online experience?
Alex Kotlowitz: Well, I enjoyed it. I found the questions not only thoughtful but also provocative, and it's nice to be able to have this exchange with readers. They after all, are our lifeblood. Thank you very much for having me.